


In

by my_achilles_heel



Series: In (Professor Jeffrey Dean Morgan) [1]
Category: JDM - Fandom, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Law School, Professors, Romance, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, professor/student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_achilles_heel/pseuds/my_achilles_heel
Summary: It’s your last semester of law school, and this is quite the predicament you thought you’d ever be in–let alone with your professor…





	1. A Little Bit Scandalous

**** Spring Semester, Week 1  
_7:30 P.M., Monday  
_ _Negotiations Class_

You’re into your third and final year of law school, just three months away from graduation. It’s the beginning of a brand new semester, and it’s the first day of your Negotiations class. You decided to take up the evening section since you have a part-time, paid internship at the largest law firm in New York City. Considering negotiations is the niche you planned on going into as a future lawyer, you’ve been incredibly excited since enrolling in this class last semester. You’ve been both excited and anxious since walking into the classroom and taking a seat directly in the middle, waiting for your professor to come in while the rest of your peers stroll into class and take their seats. There are a total of twenty of you for this class—it is law school after all, so the class sizes are relatively small. But because it is an evening class, it tends to be smaller than most.

You check your watch for the time, seeing the big hand past seven and the smaller hand in between six and seven. _7:35 P.M._ It’s already five minutes past when class was supposed to begin.

It’s as you lower your hand and place it on your desk that the door opens, and whom you presume to be your professor casually strolls in. You first notice the salt and pepper surrounding his pink lips, his face completely filled with that colored facial hair while the messy hair on top of his head is a dark brown. He has black, thick-framed glasses on his face, and his eyes are cast downwards as he walks to the front of the classroom.

Your eyes glance a bit downward, noticing his rather tan skin on his neck and the bit of white, silver, and black stubble that comes under his chin. Your professor is wearing a plain, white button up shirt that’s tucked into his black slacks, with black oxfords for his shoes. Once he reaches the front of the classroom where a table sits in the middle, he takes the brown and leather bag hanging off his shoulder and places it on the desk. The only sound that fills the intense, quiet room is the sound of him roughly taking out books from his bag and plopping them on the wooden table, the sheer force from his hand and the weight of each book making the table rattle with each one he places down. And each time he puts one down you can’t help but jump a little in your seat.

After taking out five books, he clears his throat and finally tilts his head up to look at all of you. His glasses are slipped a bit down on his nose, and his eyebrows are raised as he looks at you all with his intense, wide brown eyes. You watch as those eyes scan the room left and right—up and down—demanding all of your attention.

_And, oh, does he have your attention._

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Negotiations.”

The rough, deep, and gravely voice that leaves those lips of his catches you off guard. You blink your eyes, unsure of what to make of his voice.

“My name is Jeffrey Dean Morgan, but you all will be addressing me as Professor Morgan. Before becoming a professor for this institution ten years ago, I was a contracts lawyer for about eighteen years. I started fresh out of law school, as I’m sure all of you wish to do yourself. Negotiations became my specialty with my work as a contracts lawyer, so as a warning I am _very_ passionate about this course and expect for you to be the same.”

You swallow while soaking in those words—while reveling in that voice of his. You don’t know if you should be afraid, or turned on. But oh god, you know you’re turned on for sure.

_I’m so into you, I can barely breathe._

Professor Morgan begins loosely roll up the left sleeve of his button up, and moves onto the right. His tan forearms are exposed, and you can’t help but notice the veins poking out with each of them, and the tattoo on one of his forearms. You twist your lips to the side, curious as to what it says and the meaning behind it.

He clears his throat once more while turning his back to the room and taking a marker from the whiteboard. “Now, tell me—what do you think happens in a negotiation? What elements do you think are crucial in a negotiation?”

As he begins to write “negotiation” in all caps at the top of the board, underlining it and putting one bullet point under it, you can’t help but lick your lips. You notice his slacks are riding a bit low, his belt nice and tight to hold them up. And it’s those very slacks that make his butt pronounced, just pleading for your attention.

Professor Morgan turns around, eyes scanning the classroom as he looks for a hand.

He points with the marker in your direction towards someone who is behind you. “Tell me your name, and then your answer, everyone. Oh—and I also forgot to mention, please make a name tag to put in front of you so I can learn your names faster. First and last, please. Now what’s your answer…?”

“My name is Jake Fischer, and communication and respect are both important elements in a negotiation.”

Professor Morgan nods his head, turning around and adding both those words to the list. While this is going on, your peers and you are scrambling to make nametags out of our notebook paper. You’re trying to manage to do this while also taking notes, as is everyone else. And while you do this, you hear him call on another person and get their answer.

Once he finishes writing down that person’s answer, you successfully have your nametag up with your first and last name displayed for him. You go back to concentrating as people continue to shoot their hands up eagerly in the air, wanting to impress him as much as possible with their answers. But so far, he’s made no extra comments to anyone after hearing and writing down their answer.

“Anyone else?” Professor Morgan asks after five minutes in, lips pressed in a firm line as he looks about and no longer sees a single hand up.

“Seriously, people. No one can even tell me _the most crucial_ element to a negotiation?” His tone of voice and eyes are enough to tell you how irritated and disappointed he is in all of you.

And that’s when you decide to shoot your hand up and risk being wrong—all for an answer you had floating about in your head you had been internally debating to give to him or not.

“Ah, yes— _please_ enlighten us,” Professor Morgan says seeming fully relieved.

“My name is (Y/N), and I think the most important thing about a negotiation is making sure the party you’re representing gets not only what they need, but most of what they want out of the deal reached while simultaneously making sure all other parties involved also get the same and are happy with the deal reached.”

As you say this, you notice Professor Morgan’s neutral expression change. He starts to slowly smile, his lips still pressed together. And as you continue with your answer his lips part, showing his pearly whites. It’s once you reach the end that he’s grinning from ear-to-ear, the left corner of his lips tilted more up than the right, and eyes narrowed on you showing how impressed he is.

“ _Goddamn_ , everyone! Now that’s _exactly_ what I’ve been waiting to here this entire time! It was _the only_ answer I wanted to hear. About time. Good job, (Y/N).”

You can’t help but blush a little and try not to smile, which you end up doing as he compliments you while keeping that attractive grin on his face. As Professor Morgan writes your answer up on the board in his own words, making the size of it larger than all the other answers written, you can feel the envious glares on you. But that doesn’t keep you from being as happy and proud of yourself as you are.

_But close ain’t close enough ‘til we cross the line_

The rest of class turns into a lecture, with Professor Morgan having pulled up a slideshow on his computer as he teaches you all the beginnings to what the foundation is for every negotiation. And for this entire two hour class period, while Professor Morgan lectures the entire classroom, you find yourself growing more nervous by the second.

It’s not because you’re afraid of how difficult this class will be—oh no. You have strong grip on the material he’s teaching so far. But because although he is good at making eye contact with everyone in the room while speaking, you can’t help but notice just how often he glances over to you out of everyone else—and how each time he looks at you, you notice those dark brown eyes of his widen and lips part, pausing just for a second as if he’s looking at you in awe.

And each time it happens—oh, each time it happens you can’t help but widen your eyes in return, and feel your face grow warm. You even feel your chest or throat grow tight sometimes in return.

So it’s as soon as class ends at 9:30 P.M. that you try and pack up your belongings as fast as possible—your notebook, pen and highlighter, and your phone. You grab your keys from your backpack and then stand up, slinging your backpack over your right shoulder and letting it hang loosely. You slide in your chair and as you walk down the aisle, your eyes on the door that you see your fellow peers walking out of, you hear your name said by your professor.

You stop in your tracks, wanting to mentally curse to yourself the fact that you couldn’t escape and now you had to deal with a one-on-one confrontation with this attractive man. But you can’t—you can’t, because you’re replaying in your mind how your name sounded as it rolled off his tongue—the exact way each syllable sounded as it came from those delicious lips of his, in that incredibly deep voice.

You instantly turn your head to where he stands at the front of the classroom behind the table, his arms dangling at his side as he looks at you. “Yes, Professor Morgan?” You ask innocently, eyes wide like a little schoolgirl.

He glances away from you for a moment, noticing the last two people exit the classroom. He looks back to you as he steps around the table, walking forward to the long rows of tables in the classroom that are each elevated. He walks up a step, growing closer to you.

“I just wanted to tell you,” He begins, taking another step. He stops, and there’s only one step that separates the both of you, making you both see eye-to-eye because of the step making up for the difference in height. “I really was impressed by your answer. Not many of my previous students have been able to give me that exact answer I wanted on the first day of class. Do you have any previous experience in negotiations?” Professor Morgan lifts a brow.

Your cheeks begin to turn pink as you give him a soft smile. “I’m flattered—really. And I do a bit, I took a class on negotiations for a semester back in my undergrad. But that was a few years ago, really,” You shrug.

Professor Morgan smiles, seeming to appreciate your humbleness. “Well, I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Be more confident—you clearly know much more than your peers.”

Your eyes land on his as they sparkle at you from under this fluorescent lighting. And your smile grows wider as you shake your head. “I don’t want to let it get to me—I’m in the same exact spot in my education as everyone else is in this class is. Plus, that class was a few years ago—I can’t remember _everything_ from it. And even if I did, I know there’s much more to learn from your class, Professor Morgan. But thank you—I really appreciate your kind words.”

He chuckles at you now while shaking his head. “(Y/N), stay like that, alright? Stay humble—it’s a good quality to have, especially as a soon-to-be lawyer.” Professor Morgan brings one of his hands up, giving you a light pat on your shoulder. You notice the difference in size between his large, calloused hand and your tiny body. Your cheeks also grow brighter just by that simple touch of his.

Professor Morgan brings his hand back down and shoves both hands in the front pockets of his slacks. “Well, I’ll see you Friday for class then, right?” He asks, lifting both brows up.

“Of course—I wouldn’t miss your class for anything, Professor Morgan,” You say. And you don’t realize it yourself, but the smile you flash at him is a somewhat flirty one, which influences his response both verbally and physically.

“Now _that’s_ what I love to hear,” He replies back, giving you a wide smirk, the left corner of his lips slanted upwards.

You somehow bring yourself to turn around and walk to the door. “See you then, Professor Morgan,” You say with a grin before walking out the door and leaving him in his classroom.

_So name a game to play, and I’ll roll a dice._

* * *

 

**** Spring Semester, Week 2  
_6:30 P.M., Friday  
_ _Campus Quad—Starbucks_

You decided to come early to campus so you could enjoy a good cup of coffee while also relaxing by reading the book you’re currently reading recreationally before class. Considering how the past week and a half have been since the first day of Negotiations with Professor Morgan…you really, _really_ need to be able to unwind before and after every class with him.

What—with the lingering eye contact every class, the occasional smile or smirk flashed in your direction, and small talk about the readings and class conversation at the end of class while leaving and walking out together if no one came to speak to him after class.

Next Monday, though, you already knew you’d be having to see and have more one-on-one interactions with him simply because a research-based writing assignment was going to be due two weeks from now that’s necessary to do well on—it’s supposed to be prep for the negotiation simulation happening the same day it’s due. And you like to make sure to give every class your best, so you already planned on utilizing office hours leading up to this assignment so you can get a good grade on it. So starting next Monday, you know you’ll be seeing and speaking to Professor Morgan alone _much more often._ And with how your interactions have been going so far…well, it made you nervous and blush just from thinking about it. It’s no wonder why you needed time to relax like this before going to class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to deal with two hours of that gorgeous face, body, and voice focused on you and only you.

_Oh, baby, look at what you started—_

You’re sitting outside in the quad on campus with your book and warm coffee. You sigh aloud, flipping the next page of your book before taking a sip from your coffee, relishing in the hot fluid that slides down and coats your throat.

“My, isn’t someone here early for my class?”

You hear that voice—oh, _that voice_ —say confidently. You don’t tilt your head up, but your eyes do glance up to see Professor Morgan standing in front of your table, towering completely over you. He’s looking down at you, his glasses not one for once. He’s wearing a nice, black turtleneck with a black blaze on top, as well as black slacks. You’ve already begun to notice he really does like the color black. And the fact that he tends to wear black often doesn’t help any at all considering it bring out that salt and pepper facial hair, and those bright yet dark eyes of his. It’s particularly torturing you today because of that turtleneck of his…

He’s smiling down at you and you finally tilt your head up. “Just wanted to relax and enjoy myself a bit before class,” You say nonchalantly with a shrug. “Better than being late, though, right?”

Professor Morgan chuckles, and you can hear how deep it makes his chest rumble. “One of the many reasons for why you’re my best _and favorite_ student, (Y/N).”

 _Favorite? You’re his favorite student?_ You blink, eyes widening at him, which only makes him smile and chuckle more. He knows he caught you off guard—oh, and you know he did it on purpose, too! You swallow, noticing how tight your throat has gotten after that statement. You try your best to play off what he said calmly.

“I just try my best,” You say with a nice smile. “Thank you for saying that, though, Professor Morgan.”

Perhaps it’s because you didn’t give a playful, smart reply as you usually do that makes his smile fall. But it’s not like it’s just the two of you, alone—you’re out in the _quad_. Plus, he’s your professor…

“Continue to do that, and you’ll go far. Trust me,” He tells you. Professor Morgan pauses before continuing on. “I usually grab coffee at this time before class to go over the lecture and assignments—you wouldn’t mind having your professor join you now, would you?”

Now _there’s_ that smile again! He’s looking down at you, waiting for your reaction, wanting to see just how far he can push…

_—the temperature’s rising in here_

You give him a kind, close-mouthed smile. “Not at all! I’ll grab a chair for you while you get your coffee, then.” You begin to close your book, putting your bookmark where you left off so you can go back to reading once you’re done.

“Perfect. Thank you, (Y/N),” Professor Morgan says, nodding before turning and walking into the campus Starbucks. You place your book down as he does, standing up and walking over to another table to grab an empty chair from it. You bring it back to your table and sit back down in your seat, grab your book, and pick back up where you left off. You take a sip of your coffee as you re-read the line you were at when he interrupted you.

But as calm as you look on the outside, you’re not in actuality. You’re _fucking screaming_ on the inside, your brain cells running back and forth yelling at the top of their lungs—pulling their hair out, driving themselves into the walls in your brain, banging their heads against every surface as they freak out about any interaction that’s going to happen between you and Professor Morgan for the nearly three hours together, starting from when he sits down with you, when you walk to class together, all the way until you manage to leave at the end of class and drive home.

_Is this gonna happen?_

A few minutes later, you notice Professor Morgan walking in your direction holding his cup of coffee, his usual brown and leather bag hanging off his shoulder as he approaches you. He sets his coffee down and places his bag down beside him as he slides into the chair you set up directly across from you. Your eyes are looking over at him, and you give him a kind smile. He smiles in return as he lifts his bag into his lap. You look back down at your book, picking back up where you just were before he came over. You can’t help but here the rustling of papers in the background as he goes through his bag. It stops once he takes out what he needs, placing them on the table, and puts his bag back down on the ground having it lean against his chair. You can’t help but look back up at him, curious as to what he has in front of him.

Professor Morgan notices you look at him, and he sighs softly aloud. “Assignments to grade—actually, from my Torts class. You know how 1L’s are—learning how to do case briefs and all,” He tells you.

You can’t help but laugh, smiling so much to yourself. “Oh, you’re telling me—of course I remember the hell that was 1L! I just hope you’re not completely slaughtering them they my professors did to me.”

Professor Morgan smirks at you. “Now, why would I do that? And for someone who was quote-on-quote ‘slaughtered,’ you look pretty fucking alive to me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and you two laugh at each other. Your smile lingers a little, as does his, and you begin to realize you actually like this a little—this relationship you’re forming with Professor Morgan as his student. You’ve always wanted a close relationship with one of your professors—you know so many people who do, who look at them as a good friend and mentor. _Maybe…_

Your smile has faded by now, as has his. You look back up once more, and this time you blink your eyes and find you can’t tear your gaze off of him.

You’ve looked over at him at the worst possible moment. Because just as you looked over, you find Professor Morgan having his glasses case out and open. He’s pulling them out and lifting them up, smoothly and delicately placing them on the bridge of his nose. You can’t help but admire that one simple action—how that large and rough hand placed this on him. Not only that, but just how sexy he looked doing it…

You lick your dry lips and hurriedly look back down at your book since he didn’t notice you watching him in that moment. But as you continue to reread the very sentence you left off on, those few seconds of Professor Morgan putting his glasses on replays in your mind. How can something so damn simple and normal turn you on and distract you _that_ much?

_Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move—_

Eventually you manage to go back to focusing on your book. Your breathing falls into a calming pattern as you wrap you delve into the story unfolding before you. And surely you find comfortable silence surrounding you and Professor Morgan. He sits just across from you on this tiny round table; he sits with one leg crossed as his head is tilted down, reading over case brief after case brief in his lap, adding the occasional comment and correction. He’s just as wrapped up in his grading and work as you are in your book. You find the quiet chatter, and the sound of the cicadas chirping become pleasant background noise as you two simply enjoy each other’s company and warm coffee.

You eventually glance down at your watch, and you notice that somehow so much time has quickly passed by like this without you even realizing it. _7:15 P.M._

You lift your head up, looking over at Professor Morgan, about to tell him the time. But you can’t help but admire how much he’s into his grading and reading over each case brief, giving each student his all. His body is angled just slightly to the side, his long leg folded over the other, elbow resting on the arm of the chair with his forearm angled up so his chin can rest on his fist. Just as you’re about to clear your throat to grab his attention—literally _just_ as you were opening your mouth—his eyes flicker up and look at you.

_Aw, shit._

“Time to go already?” He asks without moving.

You can’t help but nod, just slightly caught off guard. “Yeah…it’s seven-fifteen,” You say rather quietly and slowly. You blink your eyes, sitting up straight in your chair.

Professor Morgan sighs and places what papers he had left to left to grade on the table. He unfolds his legs, and grabs his bag from the ground. As he begins to pack up so you can both make your way to class, you put your book away and gather your backpack. You both finish at the same time, standing up and pushing in your chairs. You sling your backpack over your right shoulder, and he places his bag on his right shoulder. And ever-so naturally, you join each other side-by-side walking to class, walking at a leisurely pace and simply enjoying the presence of one another. You begin to casually chat—not about class or anything to do about law, but about your days and some funny stories. It’s a laid back conversation, one that makes the both of you burst out laughing. And you can’t help but notice that you feel like you can actually, just slightly, be yourself around him…

_—Before I make a move_

* * *

 

_9:35 P.M._

Class has already ended five minutes ago, but you’re the last to leave—as usual. Most people don’t stay behind at all to ask for help, but you always like to take your time to pack up and leave. It’s not like you’re in any rush to get home, and it doesn’t hurt to linger for a few moments.

_So baby, come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it_

There’s nothing but silence as the last of your classmates leave, and it’s just you and Professor Morgan. You finish packing up to find him sitting at the table at the front of the classroom, a spare chair pulled up to it, and he’s back to grading.

Your footsteps fill the room as you walk down the three steps of the aisle till you’re at the bottom of the classroom.

_A little bit dangerous—but, baby, that’s how I want it_

“Back to grading?” You ask from where you stand at the bottom of the steps, a good ten feet away from where he is.

Professor Morgan tilts his head up a bit, his eyebrows completely raised making his forehead wrinkle, and his eyes are open wide. “Yeah—grading those damn case briefs still,” He says with a dry chuckle. You laugh in return, shaking your head.

_A little bit conversation and a little more touch my body_

As you walk the very few steps to the door, you turn your head back in his direction and stop at the door, your hand gripping the handle. Professor Morgan is still looking at you, his head completely lifted up now so he’s giving you his full attention.

“Don’t work too hard now. It’s always good to have a bit of pleasure,” You say boldly with a smirk.

_Got everyone watching us—so, baby, let’s keep it secret_

As you tug on the door, opening it, Professor Morgan keeps his eyes on you. His eyebrows are back down, and his eyes are narrowed on you. But you can see a look in those dark, brown eyes of his you’ve never seen before—a daring, hungry look that makes your stomach feel light. His lips begin to pull back, his white teeth glowing in contrast with his salt and pepper facial hair and tan skin. He’s giving you that flirtatious and cocky smile of his—the one where he’s smiling as big as possible, with the left corner of his mouth pulled more up than the right.

_A little less conversation a little more touch my body_

“I always make time for pleasure, doll,” Professor Morgan says, winking at you.

And that’s when you make your exit, walking out of the classroom after hearing and seeing that, the door closing behind you.

_Tell me what you came here for—‘cause I can’t wait no more. I’m on the edge of no control._


	2. A Little Bit Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely didn’t mean for this to go from being slightly sexual to sad. ☹ So sorry about that, ya’ll. I certainly hope the rest of it makes up for that, though ;) 
> 
> P.S. In case you're wondering what song the lyrics I used in this chapter is from, the song is "Focus" by Ariana Grande.

**Spring Semester, Week 3**  
_3:00 P.M., Monday—Office Hours  
_ _Professor Morgan’s Office_

Professor Morgan’s words had been playing on loop in your mind since Friday night. Even while doing your reading for your other classes, or mindless tasks like cooking, that memory would resurface. The exact tilt of his head—the way his eyes darkened—the playful and flirtatious tone of his voice—and those words… _oh those simple words_ that were enough to make you speechless the entire drive home…

_“I always make time for pleasure, doll.”_

And now you’d be seeing him for the first time since Friday night. You had scheduled your appointment with him online , like you’re supposed to with each professor, and upon making your appointment you noticed no one else had taken the available slots that he had during his office hours. Which meant…

Oh, _you knew_ what that meant. That he had all the time in the world for you—that you could stretch this appointment out as long as you wanted, and take advantage of this before others would inevitably come to him within the final days of this large assignment being due and he’d be fully booked.

But you decide to _only_ take advantage of this luxury if you found that you really did need more assistance and had more questions on the assignment than you originally thought.

You cleared your throat, head held high as you walk into the building where most of the law school professor’s offices are located on the university campus.

You walk down the hallway with confidence, hearing your heels click against the tile on the floor. You’re wearing a navy blue dress with a floral pattern on it, the dress stopping just above your knees. All the flowers are coral, peach, or some soft shade of pink. There aren’t any sleeves on your dress, but rather some simple straps. The back is slightly open, exposing the nude, lace bralette you’re wearing under it. You’re wearing light brown, wooden wedges to go with it, which slim and lengthen your legs.

You’d being lying if you said you didn’t dress up today because you knew you’d be seeing Professor Morgan alone. _Oh, you would definitely be lying…_

You open the door that leads into section of offices that Professor Morgan’s is located in. You’re greeted with the receptionist at the front named Evelyn, who you’ve become acquainted with over the past two years of being a law school student.

“Hi Evelyn, how are you this afternoon?” you greet her with a warm smile. You readjust the strap of your brown, leather messenger back that’s hanging off your right shoulder. You had opted to use it instead of your backpack to go with your outfit for today.

“I’m doing alright. How can I help you today, (Y/N)?” she replies back with a smile, as well.

It always makes you happy that some of the staff remembers your name because you do love to take the time to talk and interact with them on a daily basis. Especially considering most of the students here are too wrapped up in their own world to realize that what they say and do truly does affect those who work here, even if they aren’t their professor.

“I have an appointment to see Professor Morgan,” you say.

Evelyn glances down at the calendar on her desk and nods before looking back to you. “Go ahead and walk over to his office.”

You tell her thank you in response before leaving her desk and taking a right turn down the corridor in the direction of his office. As you walk down the hall, your eyes glance back and forth, scanning over the names of each professor outside their designated office. It’s once you reach the end of the hall that you realize Professor Morgan’s office is the very last one. His door is cracked open, and the blinds for the window into his office are shut, so you can’t see in.

You lick your lips, giving yourself a split second to mentally prepare.

_I know what I came to do, and that ain’t going to change._

You knock on his door before gently pushing it open a bit. You find that Professor Morgan is sitting in his chair, one long leg folded over the other, reading the book he has in his lap. His head is tilted down, glasses on the edge of his nose.

And then he looks up at you.

He lifts his head up, his attention away from whatever book he was reading and on you now. Professor Morgan blinks, quickly closing his book and placing it on his desk, unfolding his legs and sitting up straight.

“Hey, (Y/N). How are you today?” He asks.

You cant’ help but wonder why he seems a bit flustered just now, as if he didn’t know you were coming, or that he had forgotten. But you remind yourself not to overanalyze the situation.

“I’m doing well! How about you, Professor Morgan?” You reply with a nice smile as you close the door behind you, and then take a seat in the chair across from his desk, putting your leather bag on the floor. You cross your legs and settle into the comfy chair.

“I’m doing just fine myself. So…,” he licks his lips before continuing, hazel eyes meeting yours, “How can I help you today?” His lips are pressed together, but they pull up slightly to form a closed-mouth smile.

“I’m actually here about our first assignment. I just had a few questions, and then I was hoping you could look at what I’ve written so far…?” You ask, your voice growing slightly high-pitched towards the end, as you lift your shoulders up and flash a smile.

Professor Morgan blinks his eyes and leans back in his seat slightly. “Woah! You’re telling me that you have already _started_ the assignment, which isn’t due for another _two weeks_?” His eyes widen as he runs a hand over his facial hair.

You giggle a bit and give him a shrug. “What can I say? I’m an overachiever,” you smirk, eyes narrowing slightly.

Professor Morgan chuckles, his lips pulling back into a wide smile. He lifts his leg up, settling his ankle over his other leg’s knee. His fingers are laced together, which he places in his lap. “Well, (Y/N), I have to say at this rate you’re going to be top of my class and be my TA for this summer. I’m just saying…”

_I’m over here doing what I like—_

You laugh in return, shaking your head. You’d also be lying if the thought of being his TA this summer hadn’t crossed your mind either…It would be, after all, a great added bonus of being top in his class. And you would have already graduated from law school and taken the Bar, which means… _no limits—no boundaries in between each other._

“I can’t say that I’d be opposed to that, Professor Morgan. And if I may add, I think I’d actually really like to be your TA…” You say. You can feel your face growing warm already with making that daring reply back.

_—I’m over here working day and night._

Professor Morgan licks his lips in thought, and it’s in that moment that you see his hazel eyes darken to a warm espresso. You can’t help but wonder, now, if he’s on the same page as you.

“Well, we’ll just have to see where this semester takes us then, won’t we? And even if you aren’t top in my class, (Y/N), if you’re lucky enough I might just make you my TA anyway considering how outstanding your performance and knowledge has been already…” The left corner of his lips tilts upwards into a wide smirk as he looks at you with those darkened eyes.

_I know you’re hoping that I’ll react—_

Your cheeks light up a bit as you giggle. “That’s very flattering of you to say, Professor Morgan. I’m definitely open to the possibility, just so we’re clear…”

You lick your lips then, your smile quickly fading. _‘It’s time to reel it in,’_ you think.

“So, back to the assignment,” you say. Professor Morgan immediately sits up, switching gears as quickly as you did. “The prompt doesn’t say the format it has to be in. I presume it should be a memorandum, just like most of our assignments have been in law school, is that right? I know it’s not safe to assume, so should it be in the format of a memo?”

You look at him with wide eyes as he looks down, absorbing your question. You keep yourself focused on what you came here to do—on your mission. Not on how he licks his lips as he contemplates his answer… _Oh, certainly not on that…_

“Hmm…that’s actually a good question, (Y/N). That’s my fault for not adding that in there. I’d say stick with your presumption. I’ll let the class know tonight that’s the format we’re going with for this assignment.”

You nod in reply, making a mental note of that. “If you don’t mind, I need to take out the prompt for my next question…” You say.

“Take your time,” Professor Morgan shrugs, and you notice he relaxes a bit in his seat. Even though the conversation has become strictly about business, you can’t help but notice how different his demeanor is around you versus with some of the students he speaks to after class. He seems more relaxed around you—he actually likes to discuss matters that have nothing to do with class, whereas when many of the female students ask him for help after class he stays serious and uptight, making sure to have their conversation stick to subject matter regarding the class and nothing else.

You turn to your bag and take out your binder, taking the prompt out from the side sleeve. You had already highlighted and marked the hell out of it, with notes scribbled down with ideas on what to talk about.

“This is more of a general question, but how much research should I have compiled for the negotiation we’re having?”

Considering that the assignment itself is putting together all necessary and relevant information you plan on using to get not only what the party you’re needs, but as much as they want. And since it’s an open universe assignment, and certainly not like finding relevant case law like you’re use to doing in all other classes, you want to make sure you’re on the right track and not going overboard on this one.

Professor Morgan chuckles, “My, you certainly are the overachiever, (Y/N).”

You can’t help but flash him an innocent smile in reply, batting your eyelashes. “I wasn’t exaggerating earlier when I said I was, Professor.”

Your tone certainly matched the rest of your demeanor. You notice Professor Morgan’s cheeks glow slightly as he licks his lips, shaking his head. You blink, smile fading as you notice this. But you easily smile once more as if nothing happened.

_I know you’re hoping that I’m looking back._

He clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Well, why don’t you show me what you have so far, and I’ll tell you if it’s enough or not? Wouldn’t be fair for everyone else if I just gave you all the right answers, now, would it?” Professor Morgan smirks smugly at you, extending his hand out across his desk, motioning with his index and middle fingers for you to hand over your work.

Now _you’re_ the one who is beginning to grow quite flustered. Your cheeks begin to grow pink, while you swallow…only to find your throat and chest are tightening in return.

You turn your attention down to your binder, flipping through the pages to find the draft you’ve completed so far for the assignment. And all the while you can feel those dark, brown eyes trained _on you_ , while Professor Morgan leans back in his chair…

Once you get to it, you take it out of the binder and hand it over to him. “I know it’s not much so far, but—“ you begin to say, before being interrupted by your professor.

“Shhh,” he gently shushes you, head turned down and focused on reading the first page, holding your work in both his hands.

Then, he looks up at you. “You want _my_ help, right? So don’t give any excuses, and give me a moment to look over your work, (Y/N).” He flashes you a smile before turning his attention to your assignment.

If you didn’t have the chance to get to know him as you have so far, you would have been taken back by that comment—most likely upset. But somehow you knew Professor Morgan was being somewhat serious while also teasing you. And after all, he did have a point…

You internally sigh, leaning back and growing comfortable in your chair. Your eyes glance around his rather large office, first scanning the bookcase behind him that takes up the entire wall. At first glance, most people would every think single item is a law book. However, you take the time to look over each shelf, noticing some books are for recreational reading—collector’s editions. Some of you’ve read yourself, and others you haven’t and would love the chance to be able to.

Your eyes inevitably go back to your professor, whose glasses are once more on the edge of his nose, threatening to slip off at any moment. He has his chin resting in the palm of one of his hands, the tips of his fingers brushing against his stubble, while he leans back in his chair. He’s so intently reading your work he doesn’t even realize you’ve been looking at him for a few seconds longer than you should be…

You shift your attention away from him and once more to his grand book collection, resuming where you left off. You both fall once more into that comfortable silence you were just in the previous week. You can hardly even hear your own erratic heart beating against your chest. It’s the sound of Professor Morgan clearing his throat that makes you jump a bit in your seat, pulling you back to reality.

You look over to him as he sits up a bit more and takes his glasses off with one, gentle swipe. His hazel eyes finally glance up, meeting yours as he settles your assignment on his desk and places his glasses on top of it. He folds his hands together and places them in his lap, leaning back once more in his seat, eyes never leaving yours. You continue to sit as you have been, legs crossed, head held high, the palms of your hands resting gently on your thigh, never daring to look away from him.

“So, do you want to hear my thoughts or no, (Y/N)?” Professor Morgan asks, lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Of course,” You reply eagerly—even a bit anxiously.

He lets out a rather long sigh, and you can’t help but begin to doubt yourself now. Did you really mess up that bad? Are you really on the wrong track already? You swallow as you wait for his answer, leaving you on the edge of your seat.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself. That’s my personal, honest opinion. You’re already near where your final assignment should be.”

His eyes are still on you, unwavering.

You blink, but still don’t dare to look away as much as you’re dying to. You start to furrow your brow a bit in thought. Thinking of what to say next, you stay quiet.

Professor Morgan also furrows his brow. “What? Is that not what you were expecting to hear, (Y/N)?”

You didn’t know what you were expecting, actually. Until it dawned on you just now—that you were expecting criticism, just endless amounts of criticism that you would have to scribble down—so much that once you review it, you would wonder if it was humanely possible to even get a 90 on the assignment at the very highest.

Because that’s what happened every single time you met with a professor in the past—that’s because you were _so_ use to it happening _every single time_ you met with a professor. Which is why you always met with your professors ahead of time—because you expected to have your work completely destroyed every time, only to repair every hole ripped into it.

Because you were use to nothing ever being enough to every professor—there have been very few times where you’d get one or two compliments with something you did well on a paper. And, perhaps, that’s why you automatically define yourself as an “overachiever”—to cover up that the reason you meet with every professor so often and ahead of time for assignments is because you usually have your work torn to shreds.

You finally look away from Professor Morgan’s eyes, looking down at your own hands. The fingers of your right hand are drumming against your thigh, one after the other, starting from your index finger to your pinky, repeating this pattern again.

“No…” you finally answer. You look back up at him, only to find that he actually looks somewhat concerned for you. “I thought—“

Did he really want to know what you thought—the reason behind why you’re “so hard on yourself,” as you described?

“You don’t have to explain why, (Y/N). I know why.”

He says it with so much certainty—every bit of him is telling you that he knows exactly why the way you are—why you say you’re an “overachiever” and why you’re “so hard on yourself.” And you’re not sure whether to be happy or not about this.

“And I want you to know, I’m not like that. I know you’re not fucking perfect—hell, you’re nowhere _close_ to being fucking perfect! How professors expect you all to _be_ up to par with them when you’re in law school, with probably only two years _max_ of _actual legal work experience_ , I’ll never understand. And why they decide to take that expectation out on you, I’ll also never understand. But just know I’m not like that, and I don’t have those fucking ridiculous expectations of you either.”

And now you know exactly how you feel about this—you feel suddenly so much more comfortable around Professor Morgan, relieved, and happy.

“If you’ve made it this far, in my mind you’re doing just fine. So take a deep breath, and _woosah,”_ Professor Morgan says, even taking a breath and letting it out as he says that last sentence. You can’t help but giggle in return, making him smile.

“Wow…oh my goodness,” you say, eyes wide and slightly out of breath, at a loss for words for the first time. “I just—“ you pause, licking your lips in thought, eyes still not him. And then you finally meet his gaze, grinning from ear-to-ear just as he is. “Thank you so much for being understanding, Professor Morgan. I don’t know what else to say aside from that…”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “I don’t expect anything else from you, (Y/N).”

Yet you feel like saying thank you isn’t enough, but you take his word despite this.

“Do you have any other questions?” he asks, smile gone now. Your own smile begins to fade in return as you purse your lips in thought.

The books! That’s right! There was a book you noticed earlier that you were dying to ask him about.

“It’s completely off topic from the assignment, but I really just have to ask,” you say, immediately jumping up from your chair out of excitement. You can hardly hold that energy back as you quickly leave your chair, walking with long and confident strides around his desk and over to the book case behind him. Your head is completely tilted up and you extend your arm out as high as you can, but you can’t reach the second to last shelf because of how tall and grand the bookcase is. “I noticed it earlier, while you were reading over my paper,” you say as you turn your head back, looking over at him with a smile.

Professor Morgan turns in his desk chair in your direction, sliding out of it with ease. He picks his glasses up and puts them on. Then he stands up, taking a few steps with those long legs of his in your direction. He has a huge grin on his face, seeing how ecstatic you are over his book collection.

“Well, which one is it then, (Y/N)?” he asks in that deep voice of his, lifting his brows up playfully as he does so.

“ _Emma_ , by Jane Austen,” you reply.

Professor Morgan stops walking, now standing next to you. Your head turns in his direction, completely lifted up to look at him considering how much he towers over you. He wrinkles his forehead in thought, trying to remember where he placed it.

“ _Oh yeah!_ ” he suddenly remembers, quickly turning towards where the book is placed, which is in your direction.

“It’s over here,” you say, motioning with your index finger where it is. You’re standing on your tiptoes now, still nowhere near tall enough to reach it. “I’m just a bit too short to be able to grab it,” you say with a small laugh after.

Considering you’re standing just below where the book is, his body is completely turned in your direction, his arm extended out. His torso is brushing against your back and right side, while his forearm is slightly pressed against yours, with his fingers centimeters away from touching yours. Professor Morgan pauses when he hears your latter comment, turning his head to look down at you.

“I think ‘a bit too short’ is an understatement, doll,” He chuckles.

You furrow your brow at his reply before quickly narrowing your eyes, and then you laugh in return. “Story of my life,” you say with a shrug.

Professor Morgan laughs in return. “Don’t worry, I’ll grab it for you.” His head turns back up. That’s when his fingers finally, _finally_ brush against your hand as he resumes his reach for the book. And you swear he does it intentionally considering the book is a shelf higher than you can reach, and that his touch lingers far longer than it should. Because you feel the tips of all of his fingers start to run over where your wrist and hand meet, up your hand and your fingers, till they run past your hand and onto the spines of the books. And the entire time your breath is hitched in your throat, and your heart speeds up, considering part of his body is pressed up slightly against yours to top it off. Once he grabs the book, Professor Morgan takes a step back as he brings it down. You feel like you can _finally breathe_ now that your bodies are no longer making contact.

How is it that such little physical contact, _that’s so simple,_ can make your body grow hot and make your heart race?

You swallow, finally turning away from the bookcase and towards Professor Morgan who is a couple of steps away.

“I’m presuming you’re a Jane Austen fan, (Y/N)?” Professor Morgan asks as he hands you the book.

You take a step forward, leaving a foot in between you two. You decide in this moment to give him a taste of his own medicine. As you take the book from him, your hand overlaps half of his, the tips of your fingers pressing just slightly into his skin. Your eyes are focused on this simple act as you take the book from him, your skin no longer making eye contact. You glance back up at him, licking your lips for a second before answering.

“I am, actually! I’ve been meaning to give _Emma_ a read, but I haven’t had a time to buy it from a bookstore. So I was excited when I saw that you had it,” you say with a close-mouthed smile, that’s rather too innocent considering the interaction you just had with your professor…

“Well, if you’re interested, I have most of her books here in my office, actually. The rest are in my library at home. You’re more than happy to borrow _Emma_ , or any other book.”

 _Oh god…really?_ You look at him with wide, innocent eyes before you start to smile so much—you just can’t contain your excitement. You know you should reign in your eagerness, but it’s just impossible to, especially under these circumstances…

“ _Really?!_ Thank you so much, Professor Morgan!” you say, smiling as big as possible. You could honestly just hug the holy hell out of him right now, you’re so happy!

And he’s smiling just as much as you are, laughing at your reaction, his cheeks actually bright pink! “Of course, (Y/N). Any time—especially since it makes you _this_ happy.”

You knew you shouldn’t have been so eager—shouldn’t have been so excited so quickly. But it’s who you are, and you can’t help that. Your smile fades a bit, and you sigh, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

His hazel eyes widen just a bit in return. “No, don’t apologize.” Professor Morgan extends a hand out, and it lands on your right shoulder. He squeezes it gently, and you suddenly find yourself wanting to close the distance between yourselves—just wanting to be in his arms, feeling his lips mold against your own.

“You don’t find your kind of excitement anymore, (Y/N). It’s rare to meet someone who genuinely is happy over the small things in life. Don’t lose touch of that. It’s…nice. It’s refreshing.”

The mood has gone from light hearted to serious all over again. You find your heart racing yet again, your mind completely blank, with no words on the tip of your tongue to reply back. All you can do is stare into those hardened, yet slightly warm brown eyes of his that are staring right back at you.

You nod your head in reply. “I won’t. I promise,” you say, perhaps too quietly.

Perhaps it’s then he realizes he should finally let go of you—that maybe he shouldn’t have put his hand on your shoulder in the first place, and squeezed you as he did. Because that’s when Professor Morgan’s hand drops back to his side, and he clears his throat as he sits back down in his chair. You walk back around his desk and sit back down, placing the book on his desk in front of you.

“Now, any more questions, regarding the assignment or not?” He asks, smiling with his lips pressed together. And there it is—the mood lightening back up again.

You smile the same way back at him, warmth and fondness glowing in your eyes and radiating off of you. “No. You’ve answered all my questions. Thank you.”

He nods his head, and the silence comes back yet again. You notice that he’s thinking, and you wonder if he’s trying to search for something to say that’d make you stay longer.

Because you’d like to stay longer, too. Even though it’s completely going against what you told yourself you’d do before even stepping foot into this damn _building_. It seems as though you’ve lost sight of that once you knocked on his office door—as if you never had a chance anyway.

It seems like he can’t find something to make you stay, because he sighs aloud before speaking up. “I’ll see in you class tonight, right?” Professor Morgan asks.

As place your binder into your leather messenger bag, you lift your head up to look at him. You nod, flashing him a smile. “Of course—like I told you before, I wouldn’t miss your class for _anything_ , Professor Morgan.”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he hears this, and he smirks in return. “You do realize I’m going to hold you to your word on this _all semester long_ , don’t you, (Y/N)?” It’s as he says “all semester long” that his speech slows down, drawing out _every single syllable_ with his tongue rolling over his lips so damn seductively it’s driving you fucking _wild_. You need to get the hell out of this office as fast as possible.

“I wouldn’t have said it from the beginning if I thought otherwise,” you say, wrinkling your nose cutely as you do. You stand up, taking your messenger bag and putting it on your shoulder. Somehow you manage to balance yourself on your wedges as you do, and you reach over and grab _Emma_ from his desk.

“Can’t forget the very reason you came to see me,” Professor Morgan says, grabbing your assignment from in front of him and standing up as he does so. He leans across his desk, handing it to you. It seems as though you both take this opportunity to let your touch linger once more. Because as your hand overlaps where his is gripping the papers, some of his fingers come over yours, running up and down your hand just a little. Just that action, alone, makes your hand tingle, and you suddenly warm all over.

Oh, and he knows that you know _exactly what he’s doing_ , because his head is tilted down just slightly watching you, his warm eyes growing dark, the left corner of his lips pulling into that sexy tilted smirk of his.

And you know, that he knows, _exactly what you’re doing_ , because you lick your lips in return, letting your tongue roll over them slowly, eyes daring not to look away from his.

And just as suddenly as this happened, it ends as you pull the papers back to you, placing it in your other arm where the book is.

You turn your back completely to him, walking to the door, your legs crossing one over the other, your dress shifting gracefully as you move your hips. You know he’s looking at that slight open back of your dress that exposes the sexy, nude, lacy bralette you’re wearing underneath, making him wonder if you’re also wearing _something else_ that’s just as sexy. You know he’s watching how your hips move, eyes trailing up and down the back of your legs and the rest of you.

Oh, _you know exactly what you’re doing. And he knows it, too._

You turn down on the door handle, opening it. But you don’t leave without getting one last look at him—before saying one last thing. Of course not because it’s rude—you have manners, after all.

You turn your body slightly towards him, eyes meeting one another once more. “I’ll see you tonight in class, Professor Morgan. I’m a woman of my word, after all,” You wink, with a small giggle.

“Looking forward to it, _as always_ ,” he says, winking back. And you turn your back to him, leaving his office with his door cracked open, just as it was when you arrived.

_Focus on me, babe._

You check your watch for the time. _4:20 P.M._ Had nearly an hour and a half really flown by that quickly?

* * *

 

_9:30 P.M._

It’s the last few minutes of class, and Professor Morgan is wrapping up. After ending class, as others begin to walk out the door as quickly as possible, you just begin to shut your laptop and pack up your bag. You’re so into getting your things packed up so you can leave that it takes you a second to hear the sound of his voice.

“(Y/N), could we have a moment?” Professor Morgan asks, his voice echoing in the empty classroom.

You blink your eyes and lift your head up, seeing him leaning against the brown desk that’s up front and center of the classroom. Professor Morgan is leaning against it, with his hands behind him gripping the edge. His eyes look at you from behind those adorable, large glasses of his.

“Of course, sir,” you say as you finish up. You stand up from your seat, putting your messenger bag on your shoulder. You push your chair in and walk to the front of the classroom.

A small smile graces your features as you stop at the front of the classroom, standing a good few feet in front of your professor. “What is it, Professor Morgan?” you ask innocently.

“Your case brief from last class,” he says, pushing himself off his desk. He strides casually around to the other side of it, opening one of his folders up and pulling it out from the front pocket.

 _Shit,_ You think to yourself. _Great—can’t believe you fucked up on the kind of assignment you’ve been doing for the past two years now._

“Here,” Professor Morgan pats the empty spot of the desk next to him, that’s on his right. “Come and look, (Y/N).”

You obey obediently, joining him at his side. You swallow, your throat already going tight at the near proximity. You lean over, glancing at where the tip of his finger grimaces at the top.

“It’s not that you did a poor job at all— _Jesus Christ_ , no!” Professor Morgan straightens up, chuckling as he turns to face you. “In fact, this is one of the best briefs I’ve ever seen! I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind me making a copy so I can pass it out to my first year’s in my Contract Law class.”

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of your lungs, considering just how petrified you were that you messed up something as _easy as this_ in at the end of your final year. You bring your hand to your chest, clutching onto your dress, and suddenly laugh aloud.

Professor Morgan looks at you for a second, somewhat in shock, before he joins in on the laughter. “What— _did I scare ya’ there, (Y/N)?”_ He says, but in a rather cocky tone. You glance up at him, seeing him smiling at you with the left corner of his lips twisted up.

You narrow your eyes just slightly at him. “Well, how could I _not_ be afraid? Considering when most professors ask to speak to you after class it’s to tell you something that you did wrong.”

Professor Morgan bites his bottom lip, just for a split second, before giving off a gentle chuckle. “Well, I guess I’m not like most professors then.”

You don’t know whether to take that as him flirting or not, but the fact that he smirks after that, eyes still on you, makes you think it was meant to be slightly flirtatious. “Oh, you definitely aren’t, sir,” you reply back with a smirk of your own. can’t help but smirk before giggling lightly. Professor Morgan only chuckles in return.

“You said you’re teaching 1L’s, right?” you ask now, smiling at him.

“Yup, that’s right. Why—remembering how your 1L was now, are you?” Professor Morgan lifts a brow.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t. Because you remember exactly how you were first semester, of the first year of law school—you were completely petrified and stressed out of your mind. Then came spring semester. Professor Morgan didn’t begin to teach Contracts, which is taught in the spring semester of the first year of law school, until your second year. He quickly became known as the difficult professor once he did. Once he began to teach it a year ago, he quickly became the most feared professor because of how harsh he could be in class at times. He always moved at a fast pace, calling on people all the time—it kept you on your toes, because you never knew when you would hear him say your last name, asking you to spit out verbatim a restatement or one of the Uniform Commercial Codes.

“Yeah,” you say with a small sigh, and then a laugh afterwards. “How are they doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

There’s a pause between the two of you as he licks his lips, brown eyes glancing down at his desk in thought. He rests his hand on top of the sleek wood, drumming his fingers in thought.

“Afraid—well, more like scared shitless of me,” he chuckles. “But they’re still fighting—they still have that hope left in them.” His eyes meet yours now.

You nod your head slowly. You heard a lot your first year how many people, once they hit the second semester of their first year, grew so wearisome and tired of the work—that people usually would forget why they wanted to go into this field in the first place by that time. Because that was when usually the depression sank in, which happened to most people considering the cutthroat environment that law school is.

“That’s good—that’s really good,” you say now, smiling at Professor Morgan. His fingers stop tapping. Those brown eyes with a slight mix of green along the rims stare at you with the most intensity you’ve ever seen. “I’m happy to be of help—really.”

He nods. “I hope that seeing your brief, and knowing that you’re still putting in this much work towards the end of the game, will give them a bit more hope to keep trying. So thank _you_ , (Y/N.)” He smiles at you now.

You smile back. “Anything to help, sir.” And then you pause for a split second before quickly adding, “Both you and your students, I mean.”

And now _he_ lifts a brow, and _he’s_ the one who decides to push the limits a bit more. “ _Anything_?” he asks, eyes wide, hand on his chest, “To help _me_?” And then he chuckles, shaking his head.

 _Fuck,_ you think to yourself, and it’s the only coherent though you have in your mind.

“You know, I am going to hold you to your word on this, too. You never know when I may ask you to do _anything_ for me, (Y/N).” Professor Morgan smirks, eyes narrowed, waiting for you to play the next move.

You bite your lip in return, eyes glancing down at your feet. Just what the fuck did you get yourself into now? You look back up at him, and you can’t help but laugh now before sighing. “Well, it’s only fair—I did dig myself into this hole.”

That’s when you decide to glance down at your watch for the time.

_9:50 P.M._

“What, you have somewhere else to be?” Professor Morgan asks, making you jerk your head up. He’s leaning against his desk still, eyes looking down at your watch before flickering up to look at you.

“This late, on a Monday night?” you raise your brows before laughing. “God no—usually I’m at home working on case briefs for tomorrow, which I should probably get to doing…” you can’t help but twist your lips now that your endless amount of work is back on your mind. At least, for the past fifteen minutes, it wasn’t on your mind for the first time—and it’s in this moment that you realize when you’re with Professor Morgan, for once you’re not thinking about all the work you have to get done. For once, you’re not stressed, but instead completely relaxed when you’re around him.

“Don’t let me hold you up now,” he says, pushing himself off his desk. He runs one hand over his beard before taking a few steps forward. You watch him carefully, wondering exactly what he’s going to do next—what he’s going to say.

“You’re not, don’t worry,” you smile at him. He takes another few steps forward, walking right past your side in the direction of the door. You turn, realizing exactly what he’s doing, and follow him.

“It’s more like you’re a… _good_ distraction, if you don’t mind me saying so…” you daringly say, eyes glancing away from the back of his head and down at your feet as you walk towards the door.

He turns his head around, brows completely raised. You look back to him and your eyes lock. His lips begin to slowly grow into a confident, wide, slightly left-titled smile. “Oh, really? How so? If you don’t mind _me_ asking?” Professor Morgan inquires.

Again, you dug yourself into this fucking hole—why do you have to keep digging it deeper?

You both stop at the classroom door, turning to face each other, just one foot in between you two. Your head is tilted completely up to look at him, while his is down, eyes never leaving each other. His hands are buried in his pockets while you clutch onto _Emma_ in your arms. He takes one hand out of his pocket, though, and opens the door. As he does so, his hand moves from the handle to the top of the door, making him look much taller and larger than he already is, as if to remind you of this fact—to remind you who _really_ has the power here.

You shrug your shoulders. “I really don’t want to go into specifics. I think just knowing is good enough,” you counter, flashing him an all-too-innocent smile.

Professor Morgan chuckles and shakes his head as he continues to hold the door open for you. “Don’t study too hard now. (Y/N).”

As you walk out the door you turn your head to look back at him, finding that he’s giving you that cocky, tilted smile of his. And you flash him one of your own. “Goodnight, Professor,” you say innocently, with a bit of flirtatiousness mixed in. You can’t help but giggle as you see him narrow his eyes on you before turning your head away, continuing to walk down the hall.


	3. Important Update

Hey everyone!

So I just wanted to let ya'll know that I've gotten to this point in writing "In" where I can't really continue to write it from 2nd POV. I've always meant for this to be a long fic, and with the plans I have in store for this fic and where I want it to go, I really don't think I'll be able to continue writing it from 2nd POV.

That being said, what I'm going to do is I'm going to rewrite what I have for "In" but it's going to be JDM/OFC. I'll be starting a new fic for that, which will be called "Inside," and I'll have this fic be part of the series for that.

I already wrote and posted the prequel for "Inside," which you can find [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8516803/chapters/19521247) 

I hope you can all understand and that you'll read and enjoy "Inside." 

xxx

\- Jenn


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